Help Me Find Tomorrow
by Forfun100
Summary: He didn't want to look at her, the disgusting woman who was required to carry his child because his own wife couldn't get the job done. It only reinstated the one fact he knew. He had to run away. AU
1. Chapter 1 Introduction

"Effie will be here in an hour Dearest." Delly says from the doorway. I don't look up from my work.

"Alright." I say continuing to ice the last of our products. I can feel her hesitate before leaving. While I feel bad for my cold remark, I will not go to comfort her. She's too sensitive, and sure this is a difficult day, but that means nothing to me now. It isn't just hard on her, after all.

My name is Peeta, I'm twenty years old, you've already met my wife Delly. We live in a place called Panem, life isn't so easy for anyone here. Especially not for our sector, 12. You see, fifty years or so ago there was a world-wide economic collapse. War broke out for five long years.

Humans almost literally blew the world into oblivion. Only a small few people, once called Americans, were able to pull society in their country together again. All the survivors descendents now reside in the South Eastern of the former United States. There is no one left.

Panem rose from the ashes and rebuilt the society still in place to this day. The original doctrine stating our societal structure separated us into different sectors. There are 13 sectors, to be exact, and the Capitol which is at the center of our society. Each sector is in charge of a different field.

Mine, for example, is the mining sector, I however am fortunate to be the only living son of the baker in town. I had two older brothers and a sister, not one of them made it to adulthood. It's a fifty percent chance one will make it to adulthood. No one is sure why yet. Sector 13 is working on that, they happen to be the science and health sector.

My sector happens to be the smallest, only the bare minimum of stores in town with surrounding homes for the miners.

That's when I hear a knock on the back door. I walk over, I spot Gale with his game bag standing on my back door step.

Gale is a very dear friend of mine since our school days. He has three younger siblings, his youngest brother Vick is very sick at the moment. It's wearing on Gale I can see it in his tired eyes.

Both of his parents died when we were sixteen. Ever since he's been hunting to keep his family off the streets. He tries desperately to be a good parent for his kids.

He's a good guy, I'll finally see him married in a few weeks time.

"How much do you have for me?" I ask with a smile.

"Two squirrels, five fish, and a goose." He tells me.

"I'll take the squirrels." I tell him walking inside to get the two loaves for his squirrels. We quickly exchange, like it's a normal day. It isn't but pretending it is feels like a small blessing, "How's Vick?" I ask hesitantly.

"The healer says he may not last the night." He says heavily. "The kids don't know yet."

I nod slightly.

"How are you taking today?" He asks.

"One step at a time." I tell him.

"That's the only way we know how." He tips his head to me, "See you tomorrow."

"See ya." I wave him off before going back to my work. Like I said, no one's life is easy in Panem.

A half-hour later I shower off and start to change. I look out the window as I do most days or nights in my free time. Sector Twelve is on the very outskirts of Panem. I can see right where the fence acts as barrier between the sunset and the edge of the world. Even though today is murky with humidity and the clouds are dense, I still see the stiff fence. There's a slight difference today, there is nothing beyond the fence, the spring fog is too thick.

The fence marks the unknown, where everything is supposed to be dangerous. But for me? I see it as a haven. I think that I have a chance if I could just build up enough courage to leave, I could easily get passed that fence. Then I'd never have to come back.

My idea is futile. I know that, but I can dream. I have little else in this world.

I dress in my best clothes for our visitor. My wife, Delly and I have been trying to conceive for a long time now. However, she is infertile, as most women are. The Capitol has a family plan for people like us. We are assigned a surrogate until we have the required four children. With the hope at least one of them will live.

I hate the idea of having surrogate mothers, it's sick and cruel, on the grounds of my government telling me how to live. I don't want children, not with the high chance of death in our world. And for my government to tell me I must have children is quiet literally insane.

It's only a cop-out way for woman to never work a day in their lives anyway. Women just selling themselves for money to carry other peoples children? It's a topic I frequently argue that sends my wife straight to tears. I hate making her cry, and it's wrong of me to do it so often. But someone needs to hear me.

"Dearest?" Delly asks walking into our bedroom, "Effie is here." She tells me. Though she smiles I know she's at her wit's end. It pains her to do this, for the sole reason she wants to do it.

She doesn't want another woman in our home doing the thing she was born to do. I stand to kiss her forehead, the place that gives her chills when I kiss her.

I see goose bumps rise on her pale arms, "Shall we?" I ask. She laces her fingers with mine. Even after years of friendship and years of being my bride, our fingers still don't fit together.

We get downstairs to meet our family planner. Miss. Effie Trinket, who is sporting pink... just pink. So much pink I wonder if she's blushing, has too much makeup on, or if her clothing is simply reflecting on her pigment-less skin.

"Hello." She smiles brightly shaking our hands, "What a lovely couple."

"Thank you." Delly blushes, as she is easily prone.

"Let's get in the car shall we? It's a big, big day!" She seems so revolting happy that my wife can't carry a baby. Maybe it's just because we require her services, I think it has to be that she thinks her job is actually important. She's only an escort she must know she isn't important.

We slip in the car, we'll be going to sector 13 and then to the Capitol once our surrogate has been selected, (or reaped as the surrogates sometimes refer to it as.) They'll check my DNA and match it with one of the surrogates to see whom they'll be implanting. If it sticks she'll live with us until the baby is born. The cycle will continue until we have four.

Panem is not nearly large enough for there to be a long commute to sector 13. I'm grateful for this as sitting in a car with Effie, whose perfume must be toxic and whose smile can't not be plastic, is not what one would refer to as enjoyable. Some may even go so far as to call it creepy.

Sector 13 consists of ten tall buildings, all labeled for their purpose. Whether it's a school, living quarters, or a hospital. They are all identical tall grey blocks. The signs are certainly helpful in this aspect.

Effie walks us through the process of choosing a mother during the span of time we spend in the car. They'll take all of my physical features and put them in the child. If I have yet to say it, pigmentation and structure are two very important things in our world. Structure for obvious reasons, the stronger you are the more likely to live. Pigmentation is just a natural occurrence of the human race, we want a perfectly proportioned, perfectly set type of people.

We pull up to a fifty story grey block labeled 'Family Planning'.

"We're here!" Effie giggles hopping out of the car. We follow close behind into the building. Inside it's blaringly white, I'm nearly blinded as we take our first few steps inside.

There are doctors walking with clipboards, in white lab coats, with medical masks covering their mouths and noses. They have strange plastic foot coverings over their shoes, and latex gloves the have to reach beyond their elbows. I feel like there's a reason behind their attire, and no one is supposed to know why.

"Alright, if you'll just follow me we can get the tests started." Effie says leading us down one hallway. "You'll have Dr. Cinna, he is excellent." She opens the door closest to the end of the hall. An examination room.

I take a seat, "Oh, Mrs. Mellark could you please come with me for some paper work?"

Delly nods leaving me by myself.

Not a moment later a woman with her face, hands, and feet covered walks in, "Hello Mr. Mellark I'll be your nurse today. You can call me Portia."

"Hi." I greet her.

"Let's see here, Twenty huh?" I nod, "A good age to start a family. Not too young, not too old. Still got a sense of humor." She looks at me, "That was supposed to be a joke." I laugh at that, "I'm going to start with a routine check up and then I'll draw some blood before the doctor comes in."

Her examination is quick and after she draws blood she asks me to get in a hospital gown.

Dr. Cinna walks in calmly observing his clipboard with a lack of intensity, "Peeta Mellark?"

"Yes." I answer.

"Nice to meet you." He holds out his hand for me to shake it. "I presume you know why you're here so let's get to it." He stares at the syringes in the cabinet for a moment before laughing at himself, "I must apologize. I normally don't work with the men."

"Oh..." I say as he fills a syringe with what looks to be a vaccination.

"They want me branching out more, I don't know why of course. I'm one of the few people who's willing to work with those poor girls." He takes my arm and readies the needle. "They ask for volunteers and 'm there." He plunges the serum into my arm.

I curiously ask him, "Why would you work with them voluntarily?"

He smiles slightly, "Because they need someone on their side." Like they need anyone on their side. The government worships their surrogates, the vessels of the future.

"Okay Peeta, I think you know what's next." He says to me, and while... Yeah I do know I really wish I didn't have to.

Once my DNA is rounded up and sent off to a lab, I'm allowed to change back into my own clothes. Delly and Effie are back almost immediately. Effie seems thrilled for us.

"Your profile has been approved, they're matching you right now." She tells me. I manage a smile, "Come along, we'll meet your potential carriers."

Yes, we must me the woman who may carry our offspring. Wondrous.

Delly's hands are sweaty when I take hold of them again. She's nervous, but I can't tell why. She very much wants a baby and the life we're supposed to have. Maybe she worries about what we'll do with a surrogate.

We are taken to an upper-level room that looks like one of those viewing boxes for surgeries. Below us every surrogate that could potentially carry our baby sits cross-legged in grey, floor-length, turtleneck dresses. They sit with their heads down, their hair pulled back, obedient, motionless. As they should be.

It's eerie to look at them all lined up as if at a funeral waiting to glance at the corpse. To think one of these women will have my child in them soon is utterly unimaginable.

The three of us take a seat and stare down at them. It's like their judgment day, and I can't feel more out-of-place. I'm in no position to pass judgment on anyone, being as I'm a simple baker, but I feel heavy judgment for these girls. None of them will be right, the only one I can imagine having a child with is sitting right next to me, shaking, sweating, fearful. Infertile.

There are Peacekeepers all around the lower room, waiting for instruction. The entire area is tense with waiting. Only I am free of this affliction, the only thing I feel is an intense longing to leave. I don't want to feel the crushing apprehension that sticks in the air any longer. A doctor walks in the room and instructs several Peacekeepers to haul five girls from the room.

"Oh, isn't this wonderful?" Effie asks, "You have five potential candidates."

"Five?" Delly asks in that nervous 'I may just throw up' tone. I rub her back encouragingly.

"This is a very good thing." Effie stands up, "We'll be moving on now. Up, no time to waste!" She's so excited, yet all the terrible things I'm thinking but not saying bubble around in my mind.

"Peeta," Delly whispers to me as we walk down the hall, "Do you still love me... Even though-"

"Yes, Dell. I do." I tell her. She's always doubting I could love her, only because she cannot have children. She feel like a failure but she can't be farther from it.

We walk into a room full of covered doctors examining test results. There is a window separating us from the grey clad girls. They again sit cross-legged with their heads bent down.

"Number Four can go." One doctor says into a microphone connected to the next room. A Peacekeeper rips one girl from the room as Effie introduces us to the head doctor.

"This is Dr. Coin. She's the head of this department." Effie tells us.

Dr. Coin shakes our hands, "You two are in luck. You have some very good matches, as of now, we're looking for the best match." I nod squeezing Delly's shaking hand.

We walk back to the window. Two more girls are taken from the room leaving us with two girls. They both look younger than twelve, maybe it's just because their hair is pulled back so tightly into a bun, or maybe it's because each of them are sitting on the floor, hunched over and I cannot see their eyes.

"Tell them to bring Girl number Two." Dr. Coin says to one of the doctors below her. "Congratulations, Mellarks, I believe we've just found your surrogate. She's a newbie too, health. She'll make an excellent carrier." Delly looks relieved but I feel heavy indifference. "Let's meet her." Dr. Coin takes us down a series of hallways before we reach a small room with Peacekeepers lining the walls. "We take these meetings very seriously. All the rules are enforced."

Delly and I walk in first, to meet the woman who will carry our children. Only she's not a woman, she's more like a girl. She's not very tall, and not very developed. Maybe it's the extremely covering clothes she wears, but she could probably pass for a boy.

She has a dull olive tint to her skin, her hair is dark and silky even as it's pulled back into a tight bun. She has hard grey eyes that remain downcast. She is pitiful and honestly not beautiful.

I can only focus on one thing about her and that is the intensity in her down turned eyes. She is not obedient, she will fight. For her that could be deadly. It's dangerous to fight against me or our government. So why is it I feel a twinge of admiration in her intensity?

A Peacekeeper has a firm grip on her elbow as our party enters.

"You can release her, I've trained her well enough." Dr. Coin says. The man releases her to reveal a pale patch of skin where he held on. "Now what do we say?" Dr. Coin jeers her.

The girl bows at the waist to us, "I will not disappoint." She says.

"You're beautiful." Delly says. Leave it to my wife to find the good in people. Even, as the case may be, if it isn't very truthful.

"Th-thank you, ma'am." The girl says still bent over at the waist.

"What is your name?" Delly steps forward. The young girl bites her lip.

"You won't need to call her by name. You'll only refer to her as she or her, and she'll respond." Dr. Coin says. I take Delly's hand to bring her back beside me.

"That seems a bit cruel." Delly whispers to me.

Dr. Coin begins reading off facts about our now surrogate, "She is sixteen years of age. Blood type B positive. A clean family history. Mentally stable. Teachers favorite student." The girl only stiffens for an instant, it goes by unnoticed by Dr. Coin, but I catch it.

"When will we know?" I ask.

"In a weeks time, you'll be called back for the reading of the results. She'll be living with you after that, if she is pregnant. She'll remain with you until the baby is born. Then she'll return until she conceives again." Dr. Coin gestures to the girl who is still bent over, she stands firmly in her place. Unmovable, untouchable, unbreakable.

"Is this all?" I ask desperate to leave at the very least so that girl can stand.

"You'll come with me to the Capitol. To sign her under your name." Effie says. What? Am I, buying her as my newest piece of property? "If you're ready to leave we can get going."

"Let's go." I say quickly, I want to drag Delly out of here. However Delly takes one finally glance at the girl.

"Thank you." She says as I yank her from the room and out to the blinding hallways. Effie gets us back in the car and drives us to the Capitol. I feel odd as I think about what has just transpired, I know they're inseminating that girl right now. That girl who hardly looks fourteen but is said to be sixteen. I feel like I'm cheating on my wife even as I sit beside her, signing a young girl's life away to carry our children.

Once we get back home its mid afternoon. I hold Delly in the front of our home. I rock her back and forth trying, if anything, to comfort her.

"You were scared." I tell her.

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"I'm a painfully observant individual."

She sighs, "It's frightening, that girl is having our child. Only it's yours and hers... I can't help it."

I say nothing for a moment, "It will still be our baby Dell."

She smiles up at me, "I know, and that's why I still think she's perfect... isn't she? Young and sturdy. She'll give us a good baby." I don't say anything, "She's the answer to our prayers." I remain silent until she pulls back from me. "We'll have to make room for her. They'll be expecting to see the house."

"I can set up a bed for her Dell."

"Oh but where? We only have our room and the nursery right now."

"We can put her in the basement." Out of sight out of mind right?

"Are you sure?"

"We can clean it up." I tell her. "Together. Tomorrow night."

She smiles and hugs me tighter, "I'll get dinner started." She tells me heading into our kitchen. I however go upstairs.

I sit on our bed and watch the clouds dim. I know it's the sunset, and I can feel in my heart, it's like something is setting in my life too. I just don't know what that is yet.

One week later we are back at the grey block labeled 'Family Planning'. We are led into a small room like when we first met our surrogate however she sits on the cold hard floor in front of two chairs meant for Delly and I.

We take our seats with Dr. Coin and Effie filing in behind us.

"Alright," Dr. Coin says, "Let's begin shall we. As you know if you are not pregnant the first time out don't be discouraged most don't conceive until the third or fourth try. After two years if there is no success at all you have the option to switch surrogates."

Delly and I nod, our fingers that don't fit together are twisted tightly. Her hands sweaty and shaky. My nerves simmered down inside me only relevant to me.

"Ready?" She asks. Delly nods, the girl at our feet seems to sink into herself. I wonder if she already knows. Maybe she does, I've heard you know the moment it happens. Of course I'm not sure how it works.

"... Congratulations," That's all Dr. Coin needs to say. Delly and I are having a baby only it's just my baby. It's mine and this girl who sits at our feet slumped over, like she wishes to disappear.

Delly looks ready to cry. I feel ready to vomit.

"You're pregnant."


	2. Chapter 2 Downcast

The girl sitting at me feet arches her back more. I only look at her slumped body for a moment before Delly takes my face and kisses me.

It happened. It really, actually, happened. This is crazy, it's insane, not possible. It can't be. Dr. Coin looks extremely shocked. Effie covers her mouth, out of pure joy it seems. Delly is delighted. I feel afraid, the girl at my feet seems to feel the same way.

Dr. Coin and Effie walk us through the next step of this process. They load us all into a larger car, the girl sits up in front with the driver, Dr. Coin and Effie sit with Delly and I.

"We'll be helping you two settle into your new life with her today. We'll look at her room, at the nursery, we'll help you work out a schedule for you to work around. Things of that nature." Effie says as we pull up to the bakery.

We all walk into the house, Delly takes Effie, Dr. Coin, and the girl into our sitting room. I'm last in, I don't take a seat. I listen instead as a storm rolls in. This April is particularly stormy. Much like my life right now.

The young girl sits at Delly's feet, Dr. Coin and Effie take a seat across from her. They begin talking I don't pay attention. I stare at this girl, she keeps herself tight, still cross-legged. Her head down turned.

I again focus on her intensity. How dark her stare is. One could find themselves fading away in her gaze, just trying to figure out what it means. Why do I dwell on it?

Maybe I admire that much will. Maybe I yearn for it myself. Or maybe I'm just to damn observant. I catch everything.

Delly tells Effie everything, they seem to be enjoying their little conversation. Dr. Coin has disappeared to the basement.

The only one who seems to be feeling my same sinking feeling is that girl sitting on my floor who has a completely paled complexion. I feel like throwing up too.

Oh wait.

I move into the bathroom and bring out the trash can before kneeling in front of her. She vomits almost instantly. Effie shrieks and Delly crouches beside the young girl, laying her hands on the young girls back.

"It's alright sweetie, it's alright." She says rhythmically as she girl empties her stomach again. Morning sickness. Perfect. Just what we needed.

Dr. Coin walks in once I've thrown the garbage out.

"It seems everything is in order." She says calmly. "Now for your daily schedule." She sits across from Delly beside Effie. I have taken up my position leaning against the door frame.

"I've made a list of light chores for her to do around the house. Gardening, sweeping, wiping down counter tops, dusting, things of that nature. I have her sleeping schedule, her meal times, and her bathing schedule. Everything is covered." She hands Delly the schedule.

"We hope you find everything in order."

Delly nods quickly as Dr. Coin and Effie continue their conversation. I meander into the kitchen and begin work so I can reopen the bakery this afternoon. Delly gives the young girl a tour of our humble home. I continue my work until I hear them walking into my area.

The young girl with her head still bent follows behind Delly. She mumbles a response but never once lifts her head. It bothers me that she keeps her head down, that she refuses a world passed the ground.

"Dearest, can you and I go through the chore list for her tonight?"

"Yes, Delly." I answer distracting myself with work. The rest of the day passes in a stumble of time. Hours roll by clumsily. And by night, as I now lay awaiting sleep, I'm certain I won't make it through these months. Something will go awry.


	3. Chapter 3 Depth

It's been a month now, Delly and I have settled into our life with a surrogate. Delly spends her time knitting little things for the baby, she spends her time talking at me about the new baby. I spend my time pretending none of this is happening.

I'm working as much as I can. I want nothing to do with the woman carrying my damn kid.

I'm to give her work, but even as I do I hate her. I hate her grey clothes, I hate how young and helpless she appears. She should grow up and accept her well paying job with grace.

This morning I'm exceptionally irritable. I'm kneading dough as usual trying to distract myself when the girl comes in and places the broom against the wall. I falls with a loud thud.

I look up clenching my teeth. She's on the floor picking up what she'd dropped.

"Girl." I say curtly. It feels odd coming out of my mouth, like I've reached a low point in calling her this. In treating her like an animal. But it's her job.

She stands folding her hands behind her back to give her a more youthful appearance. Her head tilted down. Obedience what a lie, defiance is written all over her face.

I am fed up with her lying disposition, "You will look at me when I speak to you." I threaten walking toward her. Only stopping when I'm close enough to I tower over her.

She tenses and does not move. I hear her sigh in exasperation.

"Look at me." I demand.

She complies and lifts her head to look at me. Her grey eyes swim with fear. She bites her lip in apprehension. I must be the first face she's seen in a long while, but she does not allow her eyes to break contact.

She's talking to me through this, _I'm afraid, but I will not back down from you. You will never see me broken._ We'll see.

"What is your name?" I ask in a spout of curiosity.

"I don't have one." She says quietly. I detect a hint of distaste in her tone.

"Everyone has one."

"Not me." She retaliates. Her voice unnaturally quiet.

"Not anymore, you mean." I say. She narrows her eyes. For the first time in a while I feel two things pity and the need to help her.

But there's a knock at the backdoor. It's Gale. I walk over to answer it.

He says nothing as he holds up his game. He hasn't said a word since Vick passed. I don't blame him. I don't think he's stopped crying for long since it happened.

Hear feet shuffling in the background, "I'm not done speaking with you." I tell her, "Stay." It's as authoritative as I want it to sound. That's me, always able to manipulate the words coming out of my mouth.

She keeps her head down, irritating me to no end. When I've gathered Gales pay I look over at him. He's studying something, for the first time in a while it's not the floor. What is he looking at?

"Here Gale." I say handing him the bag. He looks into my eyes. Why is he so curious? Why is there a hint of fear in his gaze? What is he afraid of?

"Bye Peeta. Thanks." He says leaving abruptly.

I close the door and turn back to the young girl whose eyes are wandering back up to meet mine. No mask of obedience can hide what's inside her mind, especially with me around.

"Is there anything else you need, sir." I can see how much she resents me when she mutters sir.

"Yes." I say, "You will go assist my wife now." I send her out of my sight before I feel that sickening pity again.

I used to be a kindhearted person. I used to be a loving, friendly, and sociable person. That all changed little by little, until one morning I woke up and I had to put on that persona so no one would ask, _when did Peeta Mellark become such a cold young man?_ It started with the first death I'd ever witnessed. My older sister. She died when I was six, it went something like this:

I had been playing tag at school. Running and jumping to dodge whoever was it. When I looked over at my three older siblings. My brothers and sister were watching me and smiling. The oldest was holding my sister up, keeping her warm. It was barely fall and I wasn't even the slightest bit cold.

I ran after a girl with long red hair, she'd been a close friend of mine and Delly's before her later death. I looked back and my sister was sitting. I ran around the corner of the playground and looked back for a better look, she was laying down.

I shouted at the other kids that I'd quit. I tried to run at her but a teacher picked me up and carried me into the school. I screamed for my siblings. But they didn't move. They couldn't do anything.

My teacher sat me in the nurses office and left me alone to be tested.

I knew what had happened. My sister had died. And I had only briefly seen it.

I hadn't been exposed to the illness that killed her. I was going to be fine as long as I stayed away from the rest of my family.

I wasn't allowed to see them. All of them but my dad had been carted off to a quarantine hospital room. My dad and I could only see them through a glass window.

I watched my brothers for only a few days behind that glass window, before they died. My mother took much longer than my brothers. She was actually decomposing. She went crazy. She was stuck in a box with only one window.

She hated both me and my father, she hated our freedom. I was fourteen when she finally died, she spent eight years in a prison cell.

I mentioned waking up one morning and putting on a personality that was completely fake. That happened when my dad died. Three years ago. With him, my friendly demeanor and kindness died. Judgment and prejudice took its place.

I pretend to be the same person for only one reason. I hate scaring people. And when I'm my true self around Delly she gets scared and she cries. I hate that, and then I hate myself.

It's much harder to hate the world, than to stupidly go along with it. Know that.

Delly and I eat dinner together. The girl on the floor beside our table like always. Delly discusses the doctors visit tomorrow. She talks at me like usual. I put on a friendly face and let her. But on the inside, I deciding how I'm ever going to last these next eight months. Maybe she'll lose the thing and we'll be given a new surrogate. I don't know why this one makes me feel so uncomfortable. She just does. She makes my skin crawl in a way I don't know how to describe.

After dinner I head down to the kitchen to start on tomorrows goods. As I work the girl disappears into the basement.

I finish in a rush, and follow her down to the basement.

It's dark and muggy from all the rain we've had. I wonder how she stands it in all those clothes.

She stands in front of the small bed I set up for her, her eyes glancing to see if she's required to lift her head.

She looks up and holds a cold hard stare.

"Can I help you sir?" She asks.

I look at her childlike stance and realize she looks like a male. She stands strong and firm, unafraid. Women should be submissive, cowardly. Why does she choose defiance?

Crap... why am I here again? "I'm here to continue our conversation."

"Our conversation?" She asks.

"Yes. Your name."

She stiffens, "I don't know if you know this sir, but saying my name is forbidden."

"Impossible." I scoff.

"It isn't I can assure you." She says.

"So you must prefer girl to nothing at all hmm? Do you? Or do you prefer child?"

"Neither sir. I'd prefer you call me nothing at all. I'd prefer to be hidden, unnoticeable. But since you insist on being here in this room with me, I guess that is not possible."

Her sharp edges endear me, "You cannot avoid me girl. I am-"

"What are you? My master? I am owned by you until I pop out a fourth child or prove to be unsuitable. Either works for me, sir. I do not do well with idle chit-chat. So if you don't mind. I'll return to my slave duties."

What a harsh word, slave is, "You will speak to me."

"Yes... Master." She says coldly. It hurts for some reason to hear such venomous words.

"You will not call me that. Girl. Know your place." I walk forward again loaming over her.

Something flickers in her eyes, whether it be fear or a distant memory it again intrigues me. "I've had it engraved." She says. She won't back down no matter what her eyes read.

"Good." I storm back out and into my bedroom.

Delly smiles as usual, I change and get into bed beside her. She kisses my face and wishes me pleasant dreams. But I lay awake.

I should have yelled. I should have yelled at that girl. She should be compliant to me. She should be obedient. Yet it is that disobedience that intrigues me. That makes me want to press her for information. Who was she?

Why should I care who she once was? I shouldn't, my blood boils with rage for this wrong she's done to me. She's made me think. She's made me pity her, even for just a moment. That pity has stuck in my mind. I haven't felt pity in such a long time. Genuine pity, that she has had her name taken from her. She's been dehumanized, now all she is to the world is girl, a surrogate, someone who must be confined.

What a meager existence. An existence I associate with myself. We both must obey, but today she had a victory. She saw a face. My face is the first she's probably seen in I don't know how long.

Did she like seeing my face?

What a dumb question to ponder. Do I have a nice face? Why am I rubbing my jaw!? I breathe in Delly's hair, scentless shampoo. I observe her freckled checks and slender nose. I wonder if she ever considered becoming surrogate. It'd be a shame for no one to be able to appreciate her kindness, her sweet heart. Things we used to have in common.

Things that for some reason I've suddenly felt today, for a strange girl who is carrying around my damned kid.

Our damned kid.

I kiss Delly's cheek. I don't do that enough. I'm not good enough for her. She disserves more than a phony of a man. Everyone disserves more than a false husband.

But she always says I'm good to her. That's just her kindness. I'm sure. Everyone disserves more.

_Even the girl in the muggy basement?_ I clench my teeth. I can't answer that.


	4. Chapter 4 Scavanger

It has been two weeks since our first appointment. All is well, all will continue to go well. Just my luck.

Delly and I have been given new instructions. Every evening before we retire for the night we must talk to our child, as if to convince the child that the girl who is carrying it will never be its mother. Delly does the talking for me. She cares, she always cares. One thing I envy her for.

The girl stands before us allowing our hands to grope her undetectable womb. She's uncomfortable, and near tears each time. Another notch of things that intrigue me.

I like to know about people. It's almost a fatal flaw per say. I know everyone's life story, simply for the intrigue factor. I like to be entertained by peoples life stories.

It's fun, if you're into that.

I figure that's the reason I want to know about her. I want to know about everyone. I guess that's why tonight I allow Delly and the young girl privacy as I wait in the basement for her arrival.

Who is she? Where did she come from? Why can't I leave her be? I pace the room thinking both out loud and to myself, _Why does it matter?_

"I don't know it just does."

_But she means nothing to you. She's lower than you._

"I know, but-"

_You're interested. Be careful the truth-_

"I know. I know the truth can set you free but it can also chain you down."

_Be careful Peeta. Think about your future._

"What future? The one where I die? Old, decrepit, depressed, alone, and cold?"

_No the possibility of a better one._

The door opens and I stay in the corner of the still quite muggy basement. Each stair creaks with every step.

The girl appears her face upturned and her eyes closed. She's mouthing something to the ceiling.

She stops at her bed, "Hello, master." she says.

"I told you not to call me that, girl."

She dares to glare at me. "Then don't call me girl." She says sitting on her bed.

"What then?"

She laughs. Actually laughs, how odd. How... unexplainable. It's the kind of laugh that sounds desperate, unused and uncalled for. But it makes her sound... human, "Maybe someday I'll tell you. But for now if you must call me anything at all call me child or something. That's how you see me anyway right?"

I will not respond. Her hands support her weight as she leans back on the lumpy mattress I set up for her.

"So what honor do I have to hold your audience?"

I sigh, I'm not angry or even frustrated. I'm just determined, "I want to know the truth about you."

Another strangely underused laugh, "The truth? About me? Why? What is there to know?"

"Who are you? Where did you come from?"

"Questions I'm forbidden to answer I see." She says breaking eye contact through a glazed look. Is she lost?

"You are not forbidden to speak here." I tell her in a tone that has no edge.

"I'm forbidden to speak of my past. Everywhere." She says.

"What does that mean?" I ask moving closer.

"I was nobody, I am nobody, I will be nobody. I do not exist for myself. I exist for the cause. I exist for the betterment of others. I exist as a vessel of future." She says it from memory. Reciting it as if it's a pledge.

She looks at me with dreamy eyes. Dreamy, stormy eyes instead of hard steel eyes.

"Excuse me?"

She looks down at her knees. "The truth will come. In pieces."

"Pieces?"

"I hope you enjoy scavenger hunts... If you really want to figure me out."

"Why not just tell me?" I ask.

"Because they're watching me." She says.

"Huh?"

"They're watching. They'll always be watching." She looks up at me, "Doing this... This is an act of rebellion, well sort of. You commanded I look at you when you speak to me. So this is allowed. But anything else? Illegal."

"Illegal?"

"Illegal." She says, "You best be leaving sir. Your wife awaits you."

I make my way up the steps but turn back around, "Pieces?"

She nods, "Life is a little more complex than a box of sweets."

I nod and make my way to my bedroom.

The next morning rolls by sluggishly. It's a hot June day. And so humid I can hardly stand it. The sky is dark and heavy with a soon to be raining haze. I'm sweating in the kitchen as I mold more and more dough. We're busy today and the stream of customers doesn't end.

I greet people from all sectors. Some I don't know who they are. Delly does a good job of manning the front counter. I find time to slip her a few kisses. She never works for me, she normally doesn't have to but a holiday is coming up and everyone needs their baked goods.

As I work I notice the young girl slip in and out of the kitchen, the sweet smell in the air must make her nauseous beyond words as she keeps slipping away to the downstairs bathroom. I feel that sick bubbling guilt in the pit of my stomach again. Damn the feeling. There's work to be done.

Near the end of my shift I'm pulling out the last batch of sweet breads. Delly is chit-chatting with our customers when I come out.

"Darling, the Forristers are here." She says sweetly.

I greet them politely. We were friends in school because of my brothers. They're considered family friends.

"We heard you got a surrogate, congrats."

I swallow my detest for the subject, "Thanks." I say.

"How has that been? You must be so excited!" Mrs. Forrister says.

"Nervous would be a better term." I say though there are many other words I could use.

"You will make the worlds best father." She says.

"That's what I keep telling him." Delly laughs. I lean down and kiss her, "Darling we need more packages could you be a dear and grab some for me?"

"I'll be back." I tell her heading to the storage room. I walk in with a purpose but stop in my tracks when I'm about to complete said task.

The very first unfolded package has a message inscribed on it.

_I can write. That seems important. I can read too. What you don't know is that I know the place that means the most to you._

That is freaky. Really freaky. I take the message and rip it from the rest of the packaging. I shove it in my apron pocket before taking the rest of the packages out to the front.

Our surrogate is literate and from the sounds of it, she's been educated. I walk back into the kitchen and let the weight of the cardboard in my pocket weigh me down from doing any work.

I don't dare pull it out to read it again. I clean up instead. I wipe down the counters until I can see myself in them. Then I look around the kitchen. She stands there sweeping flour out the door. She doesn't look up but she cranes her neck out the door. She's looking for something. I think.

I leave before she sticks her head back inside. I walk into my house and up to the stairs.

"Dinner in an hour dearest." Delly calls lovingly from the kitchen as if everything in the world is wonderful and perfect.

I take a shower quickly before reading the words she's written again. I slip the cardboard into my nightstand drawer that in empty except for a picture of my father and I.

I look up once I've done this. The window, and the rain crashing outside. The wind knocks the panes of the window. But more than that it amplifies the fence. And it's this that makes me curious.

I walk up to the window to shut the curtains. It'll rain all night and Delly doesn't like the rain. But as my hands wrap around the curtains I hear the crackling of paper.

I pull the curtains shut and keep my hold on the paper.

_It's my favorite place too. But I'd be shocked if you knew why. I know the thing you hate most._

What do I hate most? Do I even know that?

I turn back to the bed and shove the note beside the first. When I look up my eyes meet the mirror. _Oh the irony._ _It could be_...

I walk up to the mirror and see the white receipt paper sticking up from behind the mirror.

_I haven't seen myself in three years. You hate yourself. I can see that too. I'm not sure how anyone else can't see it. I know why you hate yourself._

This is getting creepy. Like seriously creepy. How would she know these things about me? How did she figure that out?

I don't know, and I'm rather scared. Only because I feel like for the first time, maybe I'm not the one searching her features and discovering who she is when I ask her to look at me. Maybe she's one the who can read me like an open book.

I shudder at the thought. Can she seriously discover these things about me in just a month? Can she really discover them just by watching me?

I shove this third note into my drawer and march down the steps. I find dinner waiting.

Afterwards I retreat into the bakery I find myself utterly distracted from actual work. But I do try.

I hear the door open. I look up quickly from my not quite working work.

She's there, with her signature determination. However, there's playfulness today. Maybe from the game she's playing with me.

She jerks her head to the side. She wants me to follow her.

I drop what I'm doing and follow her into the basement. I follow her as far as under the stairs.

"What did you find?" She asks.

"You can write... and read."

"Good." She nods

"How do you know these things about me?"

"It's easy." But she doesn't elaborate.

"How?" I ask finally.

"You think you wear a mask. You think if you put on that mask no one can see passed it. And you're right. To an extent. If you look close enough you can see a cowering little boy hiding in the farthest reaches of your brain." I must look appalled, "You've fooled everyone around you. But I haven't seen a face in three years.

"I can not only see you as you plainly are, but I can see every part you've tried to hide. I know. I used to wear a similar mask to what you wear. I haven't had to put on a personality in three years. I realize I keep saying that but I'll keep saying it. And you know why."

"Three years ago... Something big happened."

"Smart boy. I knew it." She cracks the tiniest smile I've ever seen, "You want to know what else I see don't you?"

I nod slightly. She lets her small smile remain, "You are a kind person trying to be cruel because you live in a world where kindness is stifled to a point of utter barbarism. But if I may sir, you suck at being cruel. It's a show and while your acting is impeccable you are too kind for anyone to believe for a moment you're cruel.

"You think your cruelness branches from loss, maybe a family member or a friend, but it's your way of survival. You're playing into Panem's game and you're playing to win.

"Your hatred of yourself is petty and this illusion of hating your life has only convinced yourself. Everyone around you can see you're bursting at the seams with life. You're only waiting for the opportune moment to show it."

She steps up on her toes to whisper this last part to me, "You want to escape this whole life. You want to run away. And this is where you and I are one in the same." Her breath tickles my ear and I can hear an almost desperation in her words.

I hold her up to me by her arms, "You know what that implies don't you?"

"It implies that we both are desperate for an escape we cannot have."

"No it implies that we could be friends."

"You are quick to change your mind sir. A week ago I was certain my only escape would be a noose."

"I just... Haven't been told the truth in a long time."

"The truth is the world around us is trying to shape us. The government is trying to live our lives for us. They are trying to sustain themselves nothing more. The truth is no one should live like this."

"Like this?" I let her lower off the balls of her feet.

"Like this." She agrees. I look at her for a moment. Is she letting me in? Or is she just discovering me as much as I'm discovering her?

"I should go."

"Yes you should." She says evenly.

I make my way around the stairs. As I ascend I look back at her.

"You'll find what you're looking for. Don't worry."

I ponder that as I turn in for the night. The next few mornings are uneventful. I haven't found her next note and I won't go down to ask her for direction. If I'm going to do this I have to do it correctly.

It isn't until I walk into the downstairs bathroom to grab some toiletries for the upstairs one that I stubble upon it. On the black tarp where we've covered the mirror she's taped receipt paper.

_You had brothers and a sister. They died and you couldn't. That's why you hate yourself. You loved them. Love make us hate too. I had one of each. Brother and sister. We were on the outside._

I hide the note in my apron and again engulf myself in work. I try not to think about how she knew that. I try not to picture her like a normal person because she just isn't. She's a surrogate a no one. _Do you really believe that?_

"Yes."

_But she sees the good in you. The real kind of good, not the good you put on as a costume._

"I don't have that anymore."

_She doesn't think so._

"She's wrong."

_She is? She's the one who's wrong? The nobody who knows how to care?_

"Shut up." A knock at the door. Gale. I trade with him as usual, but this time as he hops over the fence I find myself curious. I lean out the door frame and see something sticking out from the shingles of my home.

I tug it out. It's a crinkled photo. Three people a woman and a man holding a little girl.

I have to squint to see this picture for who it really is. It's my surrogate. Who she's with? I'm not sure. But I do intend to figure that out.


	5. Chapter 5 Story

I've tried to space the time of meeting my surrogate just right so it doesn't seem odd for either of us. I wait an entire two weeks compiling a list of questions. Who is she? Where did she come from? The things I've been asking all along.

I go through with my evening routine. I wipe off counter tops, ready for the next day. She walks into the kitchen after her allotted time with my wife.

"Stay." I tell her with my back still turned to her.

I hear her stop moving. I finish my work quickly and turn to face her.

"I have questions and I want answers."

Her eyes soften a bit at my kinder tone of voice, "Come with me."

"Excuse me?"

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"To the outside."

"But you said... They're watching."

"They are but not out there."

"Out there?"

She nods, "You didn't think Coin would bug the outside of your home did you?"

I give her a questioning look but follow her anyway. Outside into the cool night air. It's been cooling down now that the longest day of the years has passed. It's much more tolerable because of this.

She takes the lead and weaves around the garden to sit beside the large tree in my backyard. For a second I question her reasoning. Won't people be able to hear us? But as I look around I realize my neighbors have long passed retired for the night. The tree we sit behind has us facing the empty landscape, vast in lush grass until the sight of the fence obscures the clearing.

She seems less distracted and more nervous. Odd, but true.

We sit in silence, observing one another both of us trying to discover one another without uttering a phrase. But she looks like she knows enough about me already.

She speaks first, in a nervous and unsure way, "I'll answer any questions you have."

The offer is tempting but I don't ask right away, I search for something I've always seen in her. Defiance, strength. But I see neither and I don't see fear either. I look into her eyes and only see one thing, loss. She wants to speak, she wants to use her voice. Using her voice, the largest act of defiance she can use. But she's too lost to find her way back to the words she'd used before.

"Where did you come from?" I ask first.

"Sector Thirteen." She says.

"Before that. Before becoming a surrogate."

"Sector Thirteen." She says again, "I was born and raised in Sector Thirteen."

I narrow my eyes, "What was it like?"

She looks at her hands, "Much different from here."

I feel the need to tell her this, "I won't tell anyone what you tell me here. Everything you say will be between the two of us."

She nods, "I know that. I trusted you with that picture didn't I?"

I pull it out of my pocket and look at it for a moment, "What was it like? Your childhood?"

She looks up at me again, "Hard. My entire life has always been hard."

"I get that." I say.

"Do you?"

I look into her eyes, pain. I see pure pain, "I like to think I know hurt."

"Why?"

I shrug at her question, "I feel like I've know the worst pain anyone can imagine."

"But do you know what real pain is? Physical and mental? Or do you just allow your own self pity because you are selfish?"

I look at her, determined to answer her questions correctly, "I thought I knew the answer. Three and a half months ago I would have answered that yes I know every kind of pain there is. But then I met you and I figured out that my life could be much worse."

"You could be a damned woman."

I look away this time, "Yeah." I say, "I could be a damn woman."

"Or worse... You could be me."

I look back at her sad longing eyes, "I could be you?"

"So close... So close."

"To what?"

"Death. So close to dying but not quite getting there. Living a life between life and death. Always."

"I'm guessing death happened to you too."

She nods, "First my dad, then my mom and the baby she had."

"And this picture?"

She doesn't look at it. She looks at me, "My older brother and my baby sister. The one that didn't die obviously. She's not a baby anymore. And she's certainly not my baby either." I look from the photo to her, "That little girl is the reason I'm sitting here."

I look back at the picture, "I don't understand."

"Life is hard everywhere." She says, "I was born to a doctor and her husband a pharmaceutical technician. But life in Thirteen is different than it is here in Twelve."

"It can't be that different."

"You'd be wrong." She says, "Tell me when do girls stop coming to school?"

I break my gaze with her, "Eighteen. When we graduate."

She nods, "Girls are tested at ten years old in Thirteen. Tested for their viable eggs. If you pass, they let you keep going in your schooling. If you fail... Well you're taken out of the equation entirely."

She draws in the dirt with her fingers.

"As in... What exactly? Death?"

She shakes her head, "Rehabilitation, or at least that's what they try to tell us it is. But what is it really? They wipe your memory. Start your life over, use the young girls as lab rats. They're trying to cure death."

I'm shocked at her news, "They can't really be trying to do that."

She sighs, "Everyone wants to play god. Lucifer, Frankenstein, and now Coin. Of course it didn't start with her. But that's not the point. They take away everything that makes those girls humans and them make them living, breathing, lab tests. Those hospitals... They're horrid places. Corpses walking the earth."

She's shaking terribly, I don't want her so scared. I'm scared too. "I take it you've been there before?"

"Yes..." She sighs before changing the subject, "I passed the test. My sister wasn't so lucky. My brother and I... We begged and begged for them to let her stay. They almost didn't. Until..."

I put my hand on her shoulder, "What did you do?"

She looks at me with those lost eyes again, "I offered myself."

"For research?"

She chuckled resentfully, "No, they wouldn't allow that. I'd passed the test. No. I offered myself as a surrogate. And they took me up on it. I never saw my brother and sister again."

My hand remains in place on her shoulder, "I'm sorry."

She looks up at me again, "I never saw him again... until a couple of weeks ago."

"You've seen him?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"The day I told you about learning my story in pieces." She says and then looks longingly out at the fence.

"What did he say?"

"Another time sir. Your wife will wonder where you are if you take much longer."

"You said you'd answer all of my questions."

"I will continue my promise into tomorrow." She promises standing up. We head inside, my mind reeling with information.

I don't sleep well that night. I only think of young girls as walking corpses being drugged day and night to cure death.

The next night We follow the same routine. Her with Delly and me in the kitchen until Delly goes to bed. We sit under the tree in silence before she starts to speak again.

"Where we left off? Or can I change the topic for a bit?"

I look into her firm grey eyes. Less vulnerable today, less open. Maybe she feels remorse for telling me what she already has. "Start where ever you want."

She looks at her hands and then back at me. "When I became a surrogate. That's where I want to start."

"Go on." I tell her.

"... The thing about me becoming a surrogate was that I had something to lose. Most women in there, go as a last resort. Those who don't have any money or food. They have nothing to lose. But I still did. My sister's life depended on me being polite and well behaved.

"They have classes in there that are so cruel I could hardly describe them to you. Their goal is simple. Make us less than human beings so we don't grow attached to whatever is growing within us. They try to make us cold. They didn't have to try with many of them. Sadly, I was not one of those many."

She leans back against the tree, "I grew up with a brother who took very good care of me when my parents died. And before then my parents were very much in love. I grew up in a world surrounded by hope, love, and the beauty of all these things."

I try to imagine a world where my parents loved each other more than anything. But it's too unrealistic. Something I can't see.

She looks at me, "They try to harden you by forcing you to watch executions. They tell us life is pain. Life is suffering. Life will always end. But human life must never cease. Craziness... But I believed differently. I would always remember the books I'd read. How love never fades or dies. That hope is the strongest asset to humans.

"The teachers didn't like me clinging to my hopes and dreams. So they beat them out of me." She doesn't have to say anymore. I know what she means and I'm angry.

I'm angry because I realize now I've been angry at all the wrong things. Angry with the government for forcing a surrogate on me, angry with surrogates using government funds and living easy lives.

I should have been angry that young girls were treated as expendable. I should have been angry that they would make surrogates so unfeeling. I should have been angry at what is really happening all around me.

The dehumanization of people. My home. My government made me believe this girl sitting beside me was lower than dirt. My government made me believe she wasn't a person. They stole her identity, her family, and her life. To top it all off they made me believe she was the bad guy.

I let them crush out my kindness, and the goodness inside me. How could I have let them do that to me? How could I let them make me less human?

She grasps my hand and squeezes reassurance into my body. "But there was something my father used to tell me all the time. The goodness in a person cannot be taken away. Only hidden under piles and piles of falsehood. And that's what I see in you."

"Piles of falsehood?"

"No. Goodness just trying to slither out from underneath all your fear of the world."

"Do you fear the world?"

"No," she answers. I open my mouth to respond but she's not done, "I only fear what humans may someday do to it."

I don't have words after she says that. I sit with her hand radiating confidence through her skin. Then I realize we're both looking in the same direction as the fence. I think I have a hunch of what she's thinking.

"You're a good person Peeta." I'm startled with the way she says my name with ease. Like we're real people without a class system to separate us. We're just two people watching the stars skip through the sky. And she's not carrying my offspring. We're almost... Friends, "I wish you'd show it for real. I wish you'd stop pretending you can hide it because you can't really. Kindness can't be taken away."

So I repeat those words to myself as I fall asleep that night _Kindness can't be taken away_ and as I work through the day I continue to repeat them. I repeat them up until our meeting again that night.

We sit there under the semi cloudy night as a pre storm breeze rustles the trees. It's mid August now. And even though fall is fast approaching. I don't think my surrogate and I will be stopping our meetings anytime soon.

Our hands reassuring one another but tonight we sit in silence as the wind kisses our faces. We silently support each other with the pulses of confidence we can provide.

Toward the end of this night I finally ask her a question.

"What is your name?" I ask softly so the wind doesn't carry my voice.

She looks at me kindly yet hesitant, "Will you promise to only use it at night. When we're alone?"

It sounds like a curse more than a name when she says this, "I promise."

"Katniss."


End file.
